Rest in Peace
by weaverofstars
Summary: Sometimes the world isn’t fair. Sometimes what it must take from you doesn’t make you stronger. Sequel to 'Things You Don't Do', Joshua/Neku, Eri/Shiki, The World Ends With You fic.


Series: Hey, Did I Mention…? (sequel to 'Things You Don't Do')

Title: **Rest in Peace~**  
Genre: The World Ends With You  
Rating: PG14  
Pairings: Joshua/Neku, Eri/Shiki  
Summary: _Sometimes the world isn't fair. Sometimes what it must take from you doesn't make you stronger._

--

"_I need the product of your fears in the form of tears. It's the only way I can survive.  
It breaks my heart to see you crying baby—it's the only way I'll stay alive._"  
—"Time" by Cute is What We Aim For

--

There. It is done.

Joshua lowers his arm, marveling at the smoke still coming from the barrel. He likes this type of gun mostly for the display—but then again, having the gun at all is merely a display.

Those bright eyes are dulling, catching one last glimpse of his second-time murderer (not everyone gets to ever say _that_, do they?) and the Angel the Composer knows is standing beside him now.

Joshua can feel the fake smile Sanae is giving his Proxy—his ex-Proxy soon. He can sense the tension in the Angel's shoulders, even as he leans half-hazardly in the picture of all relaxed.

As the boy slumps to the ground—_like a slab of meat or a fake doll_, Joshua notes without much thought, _just like all the rest of them…_ he is amused that his surprises him—the Producer turns to his Composer.

"You've won." Sanae says simply, his tone flat. It is left unsaid that the Angel has lost, regardless of the fact Joshua's game was with the once-Conductor.

"Yes." Josh shrugs, the gun limp in his pale hands. Violet eyes watching the gasping form of his soon ex-partner, it would be better to shoot the boy again as to let him go without the feelings of drowning in his own lungs. The Composer closes his eyes briefly; he was aiming for the heart—but this form is too weak and his hands are still shaking even now. "I guess I get to do as I wanted."

His eyes remain shielded behind his lids as he raises the gun to his temple.

After all, it is only his suicide that would Erase all of Shibuya, any other way would merely extend their twined suffering.

Except—right now the City isn't suffering—She is _mourning_.

Joshua's hand begins to shake again. The still-warm muzzle of the gun rattles against his skull.

His City, his Heart, She cries for the boy.

He closes his eyes tighter, but he cannot fight his City's whispers, and violet eyes open once again on the crumpled mess of the one who is still his…

Every breath is wet and his chest heaves irregularly. The once-purple and blue shirt is wet with Neku's life. Those bright blue eyes are dulled and stare unseeingly at the ceiling high above; they twitch and swim but Neku does not see.

His arms shake, the gun rattles dangerously as it is lowered, then dropped on the floor with a heavy metal clang that seems shunted as the Composer ignores it and moves like a ghost—which he is, in many cases.

Joshua does not count his footsteps, but they come quicker then he would have thought and he is running.

He hears Sanae's shaky breath, but pays no heed of it.

The only thing that matters is Neku.

Neku—the one who showed him his own life. Neku, who showed him how much he _could_ have been. Neku, who showed him his own worth and saw into his world but still accepted him.

Neku. Neku. Neku.

Neku who must _**live**_.

--

He could see them up ahead, chattering happily to themselves as they passed through Scramble, on their way to one of their many familiar haunts.

"An entry fee is an entry fee and he _lost_, J." The Angel grumbled, switching the cigarette to the other side of his mouth with his tongue, "You just can't change the rules when they don't suit you… Even if they are your rules." Sanae shifted his weight on the cement banister, aware that Joshua wasn't paying him a lick of attention. "You're in enough trouble with the Higher Ups, don't go drawing more attention to yourself."

The Composer ignored his lecture, "There was never a time limit on me taking the entry fee, or even on what I could decide to do with it." Pivoting on the heel of his sneakers, Josh didn't spare a glance for his Producer. "Speaking of Higher Ups, They wanted to talk to you as well." It was only then that Joshua paused, his face drawing up from its previously blank slate to a small frown, "Make sure you come back." He said softly, only mildly teasing, then continued on as if he had never said a thing or shown any compassion for his oldest friend.

Sanae smiled. "Sure thing, Boss."

--

"Joshua." Neku stated softly, Josh could feel the fright but also the strange fondness in the other's voice.

He could feel the smirk light upon his own lips. "Why, Neku. I thought you'd forgotten all about me." Joshua crooned, his eyes drifting over to the others, impossibly recognizable by the sheer brightness of their souls. He let his eyes flips back and forth through the frequencies as he noted every note in their Music that had changed since he last saw them. He noticed their recoil from his gaze, but that only made his smirk widen. "Shiki, Rhyme, Beat." He called as his eyes flicked from one to the next. There was only one soul he didn't recall off the top of his head—but her RG appearance was enough to name her. "You must be the lovely Eri. Shiki's told me all about—"

"You're not allowed to talk to her." The tiny brown-haired Shiki quickly put herself between Josh and the once-object of her intense jealousy.

Joshua kept his expression level, but his eyes narrowed at the display. "I see." He tried to pull back his anger at the insulting action, reminding himself that _these_ were the people Neku had trusted with his life—just as much as Joshua, although probably more willingly. He closed his eyes for a moment, before shifting his gaze to Neku. "Is that invitation still open, then? Or is it too late?"

Neku's face had always been his downfall—so expressive. The boy could never really hide his feelings from anyone wise enough to look. Without even reaching with his powers, Josh could practically read the thoughts buzzing through that orange-haired head. He finally seemed to control himself, tensing all his muscles, prepared for this to be some sort of joke. "It's been weeks." He frowned, blue eyes looking into his violet ones.

Joshua could feel a wave of guilt wash over him—for what he had done, for what he was going to have to do eventually. He turned his eyes on the multitude of people roaming his part of the city—it was easier then looking at those bright blue eyes. "Yes." He shrugged, letting the single word mean everything and nothing.

There was a pause. Closing his eyes briefly, he could hear the tension on their Music ripple out from behind him. Noise was beginning to be attracted, but it wasn't enough to lure them away from the nervous treble of the frantic mother across the street or the mournful song of the businessman in the offices above them.

"Okay." Neku's firm voice broke through the Composer's thoughts. He turned around but Neku had already started walking again. He wasn't paying attention to the others, but they only spared him a glance before rushing off after their friend. All Joshua could hear was the echo of Neku's voice.

Joshua scuffed his sneakers as he followed along behind the group. Why had he decided to do this? It was stupid, it was insane—which was probably exactly why he'd chosen to answer that invitation in the first place. Stupid and insane seemed to be his motto, beginning with his bet with Megumi…

"Josh," Neku's voice broke through the Composer's thoughts. Violet eyes jerked upwards to meet bright blue. "You up for hot dogs?"

--

He didn't need to walk. Certainly it's not something he has to do by any means.

Still, Joshua walked back to his sewer home.

He had thought the placement of the throne room was amusing, ironically ideal if he must say. Shibuya's river at the crossing and the way the city rose up from the depths in the way it does—starting from Sanae's mural and growing like a forest from its roots.

He didn't always bother to walk his city, but today it felt good to have the concrete under his sneakers and the vibration of the crowds in his bones.

However, he paused before the train station.

"What are you doing all the way over here?" He mused aloud, watching the patient sweep of the Dog's tail as she sat before the station.

She spared him a glance but went back to her intense study of the train, sharp orange eyes darting from face to face as people leave their train. When the train finally closed its doors and continued on its way, she seemed to deflate slightly and spared him another glance.

Brushing his ashen hair from his eyes, he sat down next to her tattoo-formed paws, careful not to disturb the great blue wings upon her back. "I see you're not so talkative today, but why are you all the way over here? Usually you enjoy Hachikō's company well enough."

She gave him the best shrug a dog Noise can give, and perked up as another train entered the station.

Josh waited for the train to leave, respecting her search, than continued, "I know the reconstruction of Shibuya was harsh on everyone, but what has made you so upset?"

The Dog didn't answer, instead just twitched one pointed ear to show that she was listening. When he didn't continue, she tilted her head at him and let a soft whine through her lips before throwing her attention back to the many commuters exiting the train at Shibuya Station.

Knowing she won't say anything more meaningful then that to him, the Composer rose from the ground. "I do hope you find him one day." He whispered and with a fond pat to the Dog's head, left.

She didn't look at him as he walked away, always searching for the scrap of her Composer Joshua let escape him.

He wondered if Megumi might have done the same for him—but he shouldn't think of such things.

--

Joshua kept coming back, kept showing up just in time to walk with the small group of ex-Players.

He didn't always _mean_ to end up there, but his feet always took him to their spots when he went out walking.

It was always Neku he caught sight of first—the boy's music bursting through the seams of his RG body, so loud and bright, and full of life that it sometimes blinded and deafened the Composer.

It was strange to see them act so normal, so like the other crowds that roamed his streets. Their interaction was affectionate, caring—but also careful, and that was Joshua's mark on them, of course.

Certain topics they avoided outright, some actions they skipped over in their playful banter. Others whose eyes simply passed over the group would never notice, but Josh, he noticed.

Even then, he expected that. He expected his marks to show, his carefully chosen cuts to not heal all that correctly. He had, after all, put them through something no sane soul should achieve.

Yet… they managed to be _normal_. And that puzzled the Composer.

They had managed to heal, to grow stronger from their remaining weaknesses, to move on with their lives.

Even Neku, _his_ Neku, had managed to improve. Neku had a life—something he'd never honestly had before. Joshua couldn't quite understand how _his_ broken doll had managed something even _he_ could not.

Their souls were so bright.

He couldn't help but envy them.

They would never have need to play his Game again.

--

"My dear proxy," Joshua hummed, stroking the boy's orange spikes. It wasn't soft; it was hard and sharp in some places from the gel, and impossibly tangled in others where it used to be kept in place by the boy's headphones. Still, it fit the boy.

Neku mumbled something inaudible and turned away from the Composer in his sleep.

Joshua wasn't used to caring about things anymore.

But suddenly he cared too much.

--

Joshua could tell.

Of course he could, regardless of how Shiki and Eri tried to hide it behind thin smiles and obnoxious banter.

Even the others frowned when they thought he wasn't looking and their Music shivered away from his touch. It was just like before—just like the first day.

Eri's Music had been curious, even thoughtful before—but now it sung sour notes, sour enough to catch the attention of the Noise, but Josh took care of them before they could touch her.

He didn't know when he'd become protective of them, but even with himself as the cause of those sour notes, he couldn't help but push the healing process. Ex-Player or not, showing his marks or still clean of damage, they were all _his_ now—he didn't know how else to term it.

Josh found himself angry that another of _his_ had damage, even if it wasn't nearly as bad at the other's, or that it was really because of his actions to begin with. Eri was hurt and he wanted to fix her.

He found himself standing closer to her, but she recoiled—her entire Music recoiled from him, screaming jumbled chords of his murders, his cruelty, even as he could see her tremble as she tried to control her reaction. She was a nice girl, after all—she wanted to believe the best of people.

He could heal her, easy. He could imprint understand on her, realign her sour notes—even make her happy that her friends were put through such a grueling situation because it was only because of it that she could be friends with any of them. He could, though, he could.

He knew that she would forgive him, if he did anything or not. She wasn't close enough to the events to understand his actions, but he knew she would forgive him anyway—finding some good in him that Joshua was never convinced she didn't just make up in her own mind.

But he was tempted anyway.

So he left. It was the best way—to let her heal without his sharp and cruel touch.


End file.
